


Frequent Flyer

by ofarrowsandspacemen



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU, CarmillaBigBang2017, F/F, Flight attendant AU, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofarrowsandspacemen/pseuds/ofarrowsandspacemen
Summary: Carmilla's job forces her to fly all over the world collecting clients and money for her mother's business. She hates her job almost as much as she hates flying. But everything changes when she meets Corvae Airlines' newest flight attendant.AKACarmilla is a frequent flyer with a fear of airplanes and Laura is the flight attendant she can't quite seem to shake.





	Frequent Flyer

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Carmilla Big Bang 2017!
> 
> I've never participated in a fandom event but wanted to try this year - not sure if I succeeded or not, but hey ho, here we are. Def shorter than the 15000 minimum - I'm so sorry for that, a lot got shot in editing because it didn't make story sense so HERE WE ARE. 
> 
> This was fun, stressful, panic inducing, and rewarding as hell. Probably won't ever do it again but pleased to have done it once. 
> 
> And so glad to be part of this fandom. 
> 
> Artwork for this piece by the always lovely ana-lba.

 

 

Carmilla shoved another pair of socks into her suitcase, ignoring how doing so wrinkled the blazer she had already packed. She could feel her frayed nerves jittering in her chest, the anxiety of tomorrow creeping up the back of her neck and taking root in her throat. It leveled her, setting her teeth on edge and making her hands feel shaky. 

 

Fifteen hours.

 

Her flight to Shanghai would be fifteen hours long.

 

Fifteen hours stuck, trapped, sealed in an airplane.

 

A coffin.

 

A tomb.

 

Carmilla shuddered, her heartbeat racing. She shook her head, turning away from her half packed suitcase and flicking the light off. She wandered on trembling legs to the kitchen, her shuffling feet catching on loose shirts she’d tossed off at some point. She kicked them off as she went, little care for where they landed, and yanked the refrigerator open.

 

One lone beer clanked in the door.

 

A few moments later, Carmilla was slouched on her couch, half the beer gone.

 

She leaned her head back, swiping a hand over her face.

 

Fifteen hours.

 

She could do fifteen hours.

 

She’d done longer.

 

Not by much, but she had.

 

Fifteen hours.

 

She’d done it before.

 

She’d do it again.

 

Fifteen hours.

 

Carmilla sighed, leaning forward and fiddling with the label on her beer. It was damp, peeling off slowly and then, all at once. 

 

Fifteen hours.

 

She finished the bottle.

 

 

–

 

 

Routine was how Carmilla battled the rising anxiety.

 

Wake up. Brush teeth. Pour coffee. Drink coffee. Take shower. Iron shirt. Set watch to future timezone. Get dressed. Apply makeup. Check luggage. Check ticket. Check delays.

 

Check. Check. Check.

 

Mattie told her she was childish to be so regimented, to need such a schedule just to get on a plane.

 

But Mattie didn’t have a fifteen hour flight, she was already in Shanghai.

 

Lucky bastard, working at headquarters.

 

Carmilla was the traveler.

 

Lived in New York, jetted around the world to meet with investors and contractors; the glittering girl who lured in big clients and even bigger money. Mother had trained her well.

 

Too well.

 

When Mattie took over, she kept Carmilla at her seducing despite knowing that the flights caused her to bite her nails until they bled, to stay awake all night before her trips. Some sister she was.

 

Carmilla sighed, letting her mind go blank as she reached the security line. It was short, thankfully. A round man with a red face glared at Carmilla as he checked her ID, his gaze flicking her up and down one too many times. Carmilla let her annoyance with him seep into her bones, focusing on its hot spike instead of the increasing anxiety running up her back.

 

The gate was at the far end of the airport, a long slow walk that felt like a march to the gallows.

 

Carmilla could feel her heart beat in the base of her throat. It was too big and off rhythm and made her feel woozy. She passed a bar on her left and briefly debated having a drink. Her flight was still a few hours away and it would be nice to take the edge off, something to dull the nerves, to dull everything. 

 

Instead, she continued to her gate and tucked herself on the floor by a power outlet. She was a first class frequent flyer and had access to the most lavish members only clubs in the airport, but she remained on the ground with her back against a pillar, facing a giant window.

 

The fancy digs and overly friendly personnel did nothing to calm her nerves.

 

They were stuffy, pompous places filled with smothering people. 

 

Carmilla couldn't handle that, handle the caged, private sanctums for the most wealthy. 

 

She needed windows.

 

She needed to see.

 

She needed open space for as long as she could have it, needed visual on everything connecting to her flight as long as she could. 

 

Her plane seemed to all ready be docked, impressive for the wait she still had, and its golden writing on the body glinted in the afternoon sun.

 

 _Corvae_.

 

Corvae Airlines was one of the largest and most decadent fleet of planes on the market. Carmilla’s mother had bought stock in them years ago, adding to her all ready massive collection of wealth and making her entire company loyal customers. As far as planes went, they weren’t so bad. Private seats for first class, large bathrooms with a shower for overnight flights, five star meals, and endless amenities to make it feel more like a flying hotel than a speeding tin can.

 

All the same, it did little to shake the cold fear out of Carmilla’s chest.

 

She’d still be over 30,000 feet in the air.

 

She’d still be hurtling at breakneck speeds in a giant metal machine.

 

She’d still be fifteen hours from breathing air that wasn’t stale and stiff and overly warm.

 

Recirculated. 

 

Dead.

 

Carmilla closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillar.

 

Fifteen hours.

 

It was only fifteen hours.

 

She could do fifteen hours.

 

 

–

 

 

Her seat wasn’t as nice as previous international flights. It was an older model airplane, the slightly worried flight attendants' faces told her as much, and while several businessmen, on the plus side of fifty, hemmed and hawed about the lack of features, Carmilla took her seat without a word.

 

Her palms were sticky, warm from sweat and panic. She immediately thrust her window cover up, nearly pressing her face to the panes in order to feel like she was outside.

 

She’d never been good in tight spaces.

 

Something that her father had been like, too. Carmilla didn’t remember much of him, anything really, but mostly she found that particular connection annoying. Why couldn’t he have feared sharks or something more manageable? Carmilla could avoid sharks; just stay out of the damn ocean and that fear is completely averted.

 

Air travel, however, was in her damn job description.

 

 _You could quit_.

 

That tiny mocking voice.

 

Carmilla always heard it when she had to fly long distances, taunting her with escape.

 

_Quit and you can stay in New York._

 

_Quit and you can find a job you love._

 

_Quit and never fly again._

 

But that was too easy. The little voice didn’t know about Mattie and her mother’s legacy and the amount of pressure that hung on her shoulders like lead, about her father’s final wishes and her inheritance and the guilt that knocked at her ribs every time she dipped into it. It didn't consider the blind nothingness of possibility, the fear of failure should she take that chance, the horror of disappointment that loomed in the corner of her eye. 

 

That little voice didn’t know that from her job, from her family, there was no escape.

 

Carmilla closed her eyes, leaning her head against the window.

 

Fifteen hours.

 

That’s how long she had to last.

 

 

–

 

 

The smooth video flickered across the screen in front her, Carmilla picking at her nails as the safety instructions played.

 

She’d seen it a hundred times before, it was always the same.

 

But what was unusual was the small attendant at the front of her aisle, only a few seats up, doing the demonstrations in person as well. Most flights of this size and length did away with that, the planes to large for people to see. But the woman happily went through the motions in time with the video, as if there wasn’t another care in the world.

 

She knew there was nothing new to be heard, to learn, but Carmilla watched the attendant move through the safety procedures with rapt attention. Masks in case the cabin lost pressure, flotation devices beneath your seat, emergency exits that may be closer behind you.

 

Each piece clicked into place and Carmilla felt her mental checkbox ticking. Every new item - buckle your seat belt, lift the tab to release – all filled her with security.

 

And the girl.

 

The woman.

 

The flight attendant.

 

Her job was to methodically move in time with a crackling PA system, to pretend that these weren’t common knowledge by the million milers who lined the cabin. And she did; but she was so alive while doing it.

 

She cared.

 

Her gentle motions with the loose face mask, her calm handling of a filthy seat belt.

 

She cared.

 

And Carmilla felt her chest relax, the constricting vice of anxiety unfurling a tiny, important notch.

 

This girl would not let anything bad happen to Carmilla.

 

It felt childish to think, but Carmilla didn’t care.

 

The flight attendant smiled at her as she gestured to the exit locations. Her uniform was new, Carmilla could tell. The blue blazer was bright and unwashed, her matching skirt a bit stiff at the hem. The small hat she wore was tilted slightly to the side, a rogue bobby pin sticking out from under it. A small golden scarf was tied around her neck, the edges lined with some shimmering thread that managed to glint even in the dull plane lighting.

 

She seemed different than the other attendants Carmilla had met on these lavish planes.

 

Looser.

 

Freer.

 

Out of place.

 

The woman finished her safety instruction before turning back and walking to her seat. At the movement, Carmilla snapped out of her daze. She shook her head.

 

The anxiety bled back into the tips of her fingers.

 

Carmilla craned her neck to try and see the caramel haired flight attendant.

 

She couldn’t find her.

 

A rough voice came over the PA system.

 

“We are next second in line so flight attendants, please prepare for take off.”

 

Carmilla’s hand gripped onto the armrest.

 

She’d had a small reprieve from her fear, that lovely attendant, but it was back, full blast. It shook around in her lungs, tightening them.

 

Carmilla leaned back, closed her eyes, and ignored how her mind thought of the flight attendant’s face.

 

 

–

 

 

The little light was bright, shining constantly.

 

A tiny belt buckle, signaling to stay in your seat.

 

_Keep your seat belt fastened._

 

_Keep your seat belt fastened._

 

_Keep your seat belt fastened._

 

Carmilla knew what it meant, what she had to do.

 

_Wait._

 

_Wait for 30,000 feet._

 

_Wait. Wait. Wait._

 

Carmilla’s hand tightened around the armrest, her heartbeat uneven and loose in her chest. She could feel the sweat break out across her temple, down her back, and all at once her legs and feet went to sleep. She needed to get to the bathroom.

 

She was going to be sick.

 

Sick in the flying metal deathtrap with dozens of other fools who had chosen to travel this way.

 

Carmilla glanced up to the small sign, orange and faded, and couldn’t wait for it to flicker off.

 

She was going to be sick.

 

The belt slipped against her damp palms, clacking loudly, and then she was up. She bolted down the aisle, tipping into the chairs on her right and nearly taking out a man’s newspaper. She just needed to get to the bathroom.

 

She was going to be sick.

 

Carmilla heard the warning call from an attendant, the caring one from before, but she shut out the sound and nearly fell into the bathroom.

 

She slammed the door, collapsed to her knees, and puked into the toilet.

 

A series of hastened knocks rumbled around the room.

 

“Ma’am? I’m sorry, you need to return to your seat. We are still on the ascent.”

 

Carmilla opened her mouth to tell the intruder to fuck off, but more sick came in its wake.

 

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

 

Carmilla fought the urge to roll her eyes, thinking it would make her sickness worse. 

 

She debated yelling a string of expletives, but before she could manage the combination she wanted, another wave of nausea hit. 

 

A moment passed, warm and sweaty, but slowly Carmilla could focus on the placards around the small room, note the sticky tile she was knelt on. Her stomach was still queasy, wibbly and uncomfortable. But the dizziness in her head had lessened and her heart had stopped hammering.

 

“Ma’am, if you don’t respond I will have to open the door, company protocol.”

 

The flight attendant’s voice came again. It was softer than before, kind, and before Carmilla could find her voice to protest, the door was opening.

 

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but its protocol. I don’t want, the airline I mean, doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

 

The woman shuffled in, her hand clamped over her eyes like a child, as she managed to shove the door shut behind her.

 

Carmilla looked her up and down, glancing back to the toilet and flushing it to rid the room of her sick, and then sighed.

 

“No need to cover your eyes, cutie. Just dying down here.”

 

The attendant slowly peeled her fingers away from her eyes, as if she didn’t fully trust Carmilla’s honesty, and visibly relaxed when she saw Carmilla had been telling the truth.

 

Immediately after seeing her, the woman’s hands started moving as if they had a mind of their own. She was wetting a paper towel, her eyes never leaving Carmilla as she reached instinctively to the faucet.

 

“Are you airsick? We have some chews that help with motion sickness.”

 

The damp towel was placed against the back of Carmilla’s neck without her permission and she hated how much it helped.

 

“I can find some sleeping pills. No, wait, not...not anything intense, just some melatonin to make sleeping easier. One of my college roommate’s exes used it, she was an athlete, archery I think, and it makes sleeping easier. Or deeper? I just know I have some. Somewhere.”

 

Carmilla groaned, swatting at the woman’s fluttering hand.

 

“Shut it. I’m begging you. I’ll take all of that. But I mostly need you to be quiet.”

 

The flight attendant started at that, freezing for a moment and then planting her hands on her hips.

 

“No need to be rude, you know.”

 

Carmilla groaned, leaning to press her head to the no doubt filthy toilet seat.

 

“Excuse my lack of etiquette.” She bit out, trying to focus on the cool towel on the back of her neck instead of the anxious churning in her stomach.

 

The attendant huffed behind her but quietly left the bathroom. Carmilla didn’t know where she went, wasn’t sure how long she was gone, but then she was back again with a cup of water and a first aid kit.

 

“Do you feel feverish?” She asked, unloading her haul onto the small counter.

 

Carmilla shook her head.

 

She knew why she was sick.

 

She was terrified. And uneasy. And wanted to be on land in wide open space.

 

Instead she was recovering from a panic attack in a room smaller than a closet.

 

On a machine flying at hundreds of miles an hour.

 

Thousands and thousands of feet away from the earth.

 

Carmilla could feel her stomach turn again. 

 

The flight attendant shuffled through the box of medicines, unaware of Carmilla’s plight.

 

“We have some anti-nausea stuff, like I said. Also some headache relief and something for a sore throat? Though that looks old. So...maybe we don’t use that.”

 

“I’m afraid.”

 

Carmilla’s voice was hoarse, quiet.

 

“You’re afraid what?” The woman said absentmindedly as she opened a small container before wrinkling her nose.

 

Carmilla glanced up at her, questioning why the hell she was going to be honest, but decided to follow the instinct. She reached out and tugged on the hem of the attendant’s skirt. She glanced down, her eyes catching Carmilla’s.

 

“I’m afraid. Of planes. Flying. The whole thing. Panic attack. Makes me sick sometimes.”

 

The woman’s eyes widened.

 

“Oh. Oh. Like...afraid, afraid. Got it.” She slowly closed the first aid kit, staring at it a moment before looking up at her reflection in the mirror.

 

Carmilla watched as she studied herself a moment, eyes flicking down, and then saw a sincere sort of resolve wash over her features.

 

Carmilla focused in on how pretty it made her look in effort to distract from her churning, sick stomach.

 

The attendant’s hands slipped up to the lapel of her blazer. She undid something, a pin of some sort, and then was kneeling next to Carmilla.

 

With the gentlest touch Carmilla had ever felt, the woman reached for her hand and cradled it in her own. Then, a golden set of wings was dropped into her palm.

 

“When I was little, I couldn’t get into cars. My dad gave me a thimble to hold whenever I had to go on a drive. My magic thimble, he called it. He told me if I held onto it, nothing would happen to me. I know it’s childish, but sometimes having an anchor...” She wrapped Carmilla’s fingers around the pin, the metal cold in comparison to her warm fingers.

 

“Its...Its stupid, but it helps and I don’t know if it would help you, but maybe this could be...I don’t know, this was...”

 

Carmilla cut her off with a shake of her hand.

 

“It’s not stupid.” Her voice was quiet, tender. It felt odd to be so with another person.

 

She opened her hand to look at the little trinket. It was a golden Corvae emblem, a small plane in the center of a circle, with two wings sprouting off of the sides. She’d seen pilots give them to kids who were on their first flights, a commemorative prize for traveling without crying.

 

It _was_ childish.

 

It also made Carmilla feel calmer than she had in days.

 

“Thank you.” She managed, thumb running over the smooth, shiny surface.

 

When she looked up, the attendant was smiling. It made Carmilla fight off a grin of her own, barely keeping it to a smirk.

 

“Laura.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

The woman laughed. “My name is Laura. I felt like I should introduce myself after that.”

 

Carmilla huffed out a laugh.

 

“Carmilla Karnstein.”

 

Laura nodded, hands moving up to adjust her tilted hat, and stood up.

 

“All right, Ms. Karnstein. Time to get you back to your seat before we both get in trouble. Shall we?”

 

Laura extended her hand down to her, open and inviting.

 

Carmilla wasn’t sure if she was done being sick, but she _was_ sure that there was something about Laura that made her stomach feel weird.

 

Without dwelling on it, Carmilla reached for her hand.

 

 

 

–

 

 

 

Several hours and a few anti-nausea pills later, Carmilla was pressed against the window, her forehead sticking to the plexiglas as she watched the clouds rolls by. Everything felt heavy after her panic in the bathroom, but the medicine seemed to add to her sluggishness. She’d just woken from a groggy, uncomfortable nap but at least she’d managed to be unconscious for a few hours of the hellish journey.

 

“Ms. Karnstein?”

 

Carmilla hummed in response, glancing over her shoulder to see the flight attendant from before.

 

Laura.

 

She was framed in the stray light from the setting sun outside, her golden scarf glinting in the shifting shadows. Carmilla’s heart kicked funnily in her chest but she swallowed the feeling, continuing to stare at the flight attendant.

 

The woman fidgeted under Carmilla’s silent gaze, but eventually schooled herself into a more confident stance.

 

“I just wanted to come by and check on how you were doing.”

 

Her hand reached up to straighten her tilted blue cap, a nervous gesture. Carmilla normally would have brushed off such pitying concern but there was something about this woman.

 

About Laura.

 

She had comforted her even before her panic in the bathroom.

 

Perhaps she could at least be polite.

 

Carmilla cleared her throat and shuffled to sit up straighter in her seat. She nodded, giving Laura a small smile.

 

“The medicine helped, thank you. I...uh...” Carmilla remembered the pin, the small metal wings that currently were clutched in her right hand. She suddenly felt bashful, but forced the words out anyway.

 

“And for the...anchor. It helped. It’s helping.”

 

Laura smiled down her, eyes warm and relieved. She brought her hand up and squeezed Carmilla’s shoulder, giving it a little shake.

 

“I’m glad.”

 

Carmilla could feel her cheeks heating up under Laura’s gaze, alarm bells dinging in her head like thunder, and she cleared her throat again to end whatever sentimental moment was blossoming between them. The noise jolted Laura out of the moment and her hand dropped from Carmilla’s shoulder as quickly as it had come.

 

“Let me know if you need anything else, Ms. Karnstein.”

 

Carmilla didn’t respond, just watched as the flight attendant hurried away, her hands nervously adjusting her skirt as she went.

 

 

–

 

 

The landing jolted Carmilla awake, her neck stiff and her legs tingling from falling asleep. She went through the motions of getting off the plane; pointedly ignoring other passengers, pulling her small carry on bag from the storage compartment, shuffling out in the long line of tired businessmen.

 

Carmilla had almost forgotten the start of her flight, and the flight attendant, until she saw her waving people off the plane. Her pristine uniform was crinkled, her hat even more askew than before. Her caramel colored hair was a bit wild, long strands out of place but she still looked as happy as ever. Carmilla wondered what had happened on the rest of the flight to get her so flustered, what she managed to still be perky through.

 

Carmilla was startled by her desire to ask.

 

Laura smiled at her as she departed the plane, giving her a small wave before tucking a wayward hair behind her ear.

 

Carmilla nodded, flush running up into her cheeks, and then headed up the jet bridge.

 

In her hand, she still held the golden wings.

 

 

–

 

 

 

“ _You cannot be mad at me this time, darling, I got you on the nicest model aircraft we have to offer.”_

 

Carmilla scoffed, tucking the phone against her shoulder as she wrenched open her beside table drawer. The contents were a messy pile of papers and trinkets and things she could never find a place for. They had to be in here.

 

A few rushed swipes of her hand and nothing.

 

Not there either.

 

“ _You really don’t trust me?”_ Mattie cooed in her ear.

 

Carmilla rolled her eyes.

 

“You said this last time. And the time before that. _And_ the time before that. And have been saying it for the last four months so excuse me for doubting your ability to book me flights that don’t cause me to have severe anxiety.”

 

Mattie hummed, clearly not listening any longer.

 

“ _J.P. will pick you up as usual. Enjoy your flight, kitty.”_

 

A click and she was gone, leaving Carmilla stressed and alone.

 

She tossed the phone onto her bed, turning back to the bedside table and attempting to dig through it again.

 

This was the sixth overseas trip in four months that Mattie was sending her on; each flight had been less luxurious than the next. After the fifth plane had encountered a ride so turbulent the company had offered refunds, Carmilla had had enough. This time, she had put her foot down.

 

Carmilla was done with whatever game Mattie was playing at when it came to her fears.

 

She was to fly in the finest of the Corvae fleet, or Mattie could find herself a new corporate seductress.

 

Mattie swore _this_ time she was being honest when she told Carmilla she was flying the finest plane money could offer, but she’d been burned before.

 

Which is why she needed to find it.

 

After the drawer yielded nothing, Carmilla slammed it shut in a frustrated fit.

 

Where the hell were the wings?

 

She couldn’t fly without them.

 

It was silly, childish. It made Carmilla feel that way. But the golden pin the flight attendant had given her so many months ago had become her only solace during long flights. She couldn’t fly without it anymore. It was an anchor, just as the woman had said.

 

The woman.

 

Laura.

 

Carmilla could still picture her, with her golden hair and fluttering hands and gentle gaze. It made her feel odd; uneven and confused and slightly uncomfortable. She didn’t know why the woman was still so burned into her memory.

 

Probably due to their embarrassing interaction.

 

And the wings.

 

Where the hell _were_ they?

 

Carmilla huffed, running a hand through her hair, before stomping out of her bedroom into the living room. She shoved the pile of dirty clothes on her couch to the side, making a small pocket where she could burrow and watch television until she felt less annoyed. Maybe the location would come to her if she stopped thinking about the pin for a while.

 

As she tossed clothes onto the floor, a distinct metal ping skittered across the hardwood.

 

With a speed Carmilla didn’t know she possessed, she launched herself at the dark jeans she just thrown. Hands trembling, she fished in the pockets and felt something cool and familiar. She yanked it out like an impatient child.

 

_The wings._

 

Carmilla would have been mortified if someone else had been present, but alone in her apartment she let the relief wash through her like water.

 

She was traveling to Singapore tomorrow.

 

The longest direct flight in the world.

 

She’d never admit it, she barely could to herself, but Carmilla wasn’t sure she could have gotten on the plane without the tiny golden wings in her pocket.

 

It was foolish.

 

She knew.

 

But the flight attendant had been right.

 

It helped.

 

The flight attendant.

 

Laura.

 

She didn’t even know the woman’s last name and she had changed Carmilla’s in such a specific way.

 

Carmilla couldn’t even bring herself to care.

 

She flopped down on her couch in between the piles of clothes and flicked on the television.

 

In between her fingers, she spun the small pin and the flight the next morning didn’t feel quite so hard.

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla would have to apologize to Mattie for doubting her; her flight to Singapore was easily the nicest plane she had ever been on. Nearly private first class seats, a full bar that she could wander to if the desire struck her, and a bathroom with a shower for when she needed to refresh before disembarking.

 

Carmilla hated flying, hated planes, but even she had to admit it was nice.

 

She managed to make it through most of the flight – nineteen hours was too long for anyone, especially for her, however the first fifteen she had mostly slept – when her time for the shower came up.

 

Clutching her faithful wing pin in her hand and carrying her small bag of toiletries, Carmilla followed a nervous red haired flight attendant to the bathroom. The woman notified her of the services; hot running water for five minutes, thirty minutes total use of the room, and products of every and any kind at her disposal. Then, Carmilla was alone in the gold and cream colored bathroom, the wings still pressed tightly against her palm.

 

It took her a few breaths to acclimate, to realize she was clenching her pin so hard that it was indenting into her palm.

 

She _was_ tense.

 

The shower was sounding better and better as she stood in the large room, unsure of what to do.

 

After another few minutes of running her thumb across the ridged wings in her hand, Carmilla decided to test the amenities. Stripping out of her clothes and crumpling them up on the floor, Carmilla dropped the wing pin on top of the pile and stepped into the shower.

 

There were several buttons, all with instructions written around them in several languages, and Carmilla took a breath before picking her water temperature and hitting the start button.

 

Immediately, warm water cascaded down upon her. She shivered at the heat of it, surprised at how instantly her body reacted, and then let the hot streams of water relax her muscles.

 

Under the water, with the sound of it hitting the glass door, Carmilla could almost forget where she was.

 

Thousands and thousands of feet in the air, hurtling at terrifying speeds, with nothing but trust in the pilot and the machine around her to protect her.

 

With warm water snaking down her back, she could push that thought out of her mind.

 

Almost.

 

But almost was better than anything she had ever experienced on a plane.

 

That and the combo of her pin to ground her, Carmilla felt nearly comfortable.

 

Until someone burst through the bathroom door.

 

Carmilla froze under the spray, her hands freezing in her hair. Panicked, she slammed her hand against the button on the wall, stopping the water. Outside she could hear muttering.

 

“Perry is going to kill me, I can’t believe it. I get moved to a big flight and I’ve already spilled the champagne tray on three first class customers. This is it, fired for sure. Damn it, my dad was right, I should have just stayed at Delta.”

 

Carmilla strained to hear the rambling; whoever was in the bathroom didn’t seem aware that she was here.

 

She suppressed a groan.

 

_Carmilla hadn’t locked the door._

 

After the attendant had left, she’d forgotten to latch the door.

 

And now someone was muttering to themselves and she was trapped in the shower and her clothes were right outside the shower door but she had no towel and -

 

Wait.

 

Spilled champagne?

 

Was a flight attendant in here with her?

 

Almost in answer to Carmilla’s question, the panicked voice came again.

 

“You can do this. It’s just one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, right? Come on, Laura, girl the hell up.”

 

“Laura?” Carmilla couldn’t stop her own voice from questioning, the memory of the attendant and the pin and those dark eyes suddenly overwhelming as she hid in the shower.

 

“Whoa, what the hell, who is in here?!”

 

Carmilla groaned, wishing she could have just kept her mouth shut. Instead, she gingerly open the shower door and poked her head out.

 

Standing before her, disheveled and half dressed, was Laura from so many months ago.

 

Her skirt was missing, in the sink where she’d been attempting to rinse it, as was her blue blazer. She stood in nothing but stockings, underwear, and her white button down. Carmilla could feel the blush slam into her cheeks as she stared at her, unable to look away.

 

Laura the flight attendant was _gorgeous_.

 

Carmilla had known that before, had avoided thinking that before, but seeing her again after so long was something else.

 

Something that took her feet out from under her.

 

It was barely a second they had to lock eyes before Carmilla was slipping and crashing to the floor of the shower.

 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

 

Carmilla’s head was spinning, having slammed hard against the tile floor of the shower. She blearily blinked her eyes open only to see Laura’s face, hat missing and wild hair down around her shoulders.

 

“Carmilla? Carmilla are you okay? Can you hear me?”

 

Her voice was low; panicked, but attempting to be calming. Carmilla wanted to laugh at the situation. She was naked and Laura was holding her wet body while barely clothed. In some other world, she would have. But her head was pounding and she curled into Laura’s body on instinct.

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, cutie.” She managed, pleased at the throaty laugh that Laura produced.

 

Her hands were on her back, around her and mostly shielding Carmilla’s body from view.

 

“Can you stand?” Laura asked, her flight attendant training suddenly finding her again.

 

Carmilla wasn’t so sure of that. Her head hurt like hell and she was so sleepy suddenly.

 

“Oh don’t you dare fall asleep. I will not have you concussed on my watch, missy.”

 

Carmilla could feel a throbbing behind her eyes but willed them to stay open. Laura was above her, all golden hair and soft eyes, and she found herself giggling.

 

“You remembered me.” Her slurred voice came.

 

Laura’s ears slowly turned a pretty, flushed pink.

 

“I...well, you are….I haven’t been on...”

 

Carmilla cut her off.

 

“Can I put a shirt on please?”

 

Laura stiffened, her gaze snapping to look at the shower wall instead of Carmilla’s naked form.

 

Carmilla, even in her haze, felt pleased with how tight Laura’s hands gripped against her, how rosy her face became.

 

“Yes, um, of course. I’ll just...get your shirt.”

 

Laura’s arms slid from around Carmilla, a towel suddenly plopping on top of her damp body.

 

“Dry off, if you can.”

 

Laura’s voice came from beyond the door but Carmilla followed the instruction as best she could. Her head still hurt, but her vision wasn’t so foggy anymore and the headache settling around her temples felt like it was grounding her more than confusing her. She covered herself with the damp towel, waiting for Laura to pass her a shirt.

 

Suddenly, a hand came into view holding a soft white robe.

 

Even better.

 

“Can you get into it on your own? You fell so-”

 

“I’ll manage.” Carmilla grunted, shifting to her knees. She sloppily threw the rob on, her head getting light, and then Laura was there, holding her under the arms.

 

Their noses were brushing, Laura’s eyes flicking frantically all over her face.

 

“You yelled, I didn’t know...I just wanted...”

 

Carmilla couldn’t shake her head without it hurting so instead she brought her hand up to cup Laura’s face.

 

“Can you help me up please?”

 

After a few fumbling minutes, ones where Carmilla touched parts of Laura she didn’t intend to and where Laura’s hands had to hold Carmilla’s body in ways that in other circumstances would have been wholly indecent, Laura had moved Carmilla to sit on a bench on the far side of the bathroom. Her hands were tenderly brushing on the back of Carmilla’s head, checking for a wound.

 

“Just a bump, I think. Though I’d like if you let the on board doctor check.”

 

“On board doctor?” Carmilla asked, pulling up the robe which had started slipping down her shoulder.

 

“Corvae spares no expense, Ms. Karnstein.”

 

“Carmilla.”

 

Laura’s brow furrowed, her mouth opening to protest. Carmilla’s hand landed on the side of her face again, thumb instinctively brushing along her cheek bone.

 

“You’ve seen me naked. I think we’re there.”

 

Laura laughed, full and relieved, and the sound of it made Carmilla’s head feel lighter than the fall had.

 

For a moment, the pair just looked at one another; Carmilla could feel the blush creeping up her neck into her cheeks. She wished she had the wings in her hand.

 

The wings Laura had given her.

 

“Could I have my clothes?” Her voice asked, without her consent.

 

Laura startled, nodding frantically.

 

“Oh my gosh, yes, I’m so sorry. I’ll just -”

 

Laura launched herself across the room to Carmilla’s clothes, gathering them up in her arms and nearly throwing them at her. In the passing, a small metal clink echoed through the room, pinging across the floor.

 

Carmilla’s entire body stilled at the knowledge of what it was.

 

Laura reached down to pick up the object, turning it over in her fingers before Carmilla could snatch it out of her hand.

 

For a long moment, Laura stared at the pin as if she didn’t recognize it. Carmilla wondered if Laura gave it to anyone who was struggling on a long flight. She suddenly felt even more embarrassed than before.

 

Then, Laura spoke.

 

“You kept it?”

 

Carmilla’s eyes snapped up, meeting Laura’s.

 

Her dark eyes were wide in wonder.

 

Carmilla opened her mouth to speak, to tell her that the small trinket Laura gave her all those months ago was the only thing that could get her to board a plane, when the door to the bathroom flew open.

 

“Laura Hollis, what in the name of – Oh my stars, there is a _patron in this bathroom and you have no skirt on!_ ”

 

The frantic red haired flight attendant who had shown Carmilla the bathroom was near a full mental breakdown from the scene before her. Before Carmilla could answer, could try to begin to explain, Laura spoke.

 

“Hi, Perry.”

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla was mortified.

 

Now safely tucked in her seat, the privacy door shut so that she was as alone as she could be on a packed international flight, Carmilla could revel in the horror of it all. The nudity, the falling, Laura discovering she still had the pin; all of it had been embarrassment after embarrassment.

 

Then came the inspection by the on flight physician and, though she had escaped without a concussion, her head was now pounding like one of the worst hangovers she’d ever experienced.

 

All the pain with none of the fun.

 

Well, it hadn’t been _completely_ devoid of fun.

 

There was the image of Laura seared in her mind, of her thigh high stockings and dark lace underwear and the crisp button down. Carmilla was certain that memory was one that she wouldn’t soon forgot, no matter the headache.

 

Her damp hair clung to the neck of her shirt but Carmilla didn’t mind the cool drips littering her clothes. The sensation grounded her, distracted her from her headache.

 

Distracted her until the door to her seat slowly slid open and Laura Hollis slipped in the tight space.

 

Carmilla’s hands gripped onto the armrests in surprise, eye widening as Laura slid the privacy door shut and crouched down. After a breathless moment where the flight attendant seemed to forget she had just barged into an occupied first class seat, she looked up at Carmilla. She gave an apologetic smile and placed her finger over her lips, indicating for Carmilla to be quiet.

 

Carmilla didn’t think she could speak even if she wanted to.

 

Kneeling in between her legs, gazing up at her with big brown eyes, was the most gorgeous girl Carmilla had ever made a fool out of herself in front of.

 

She swallowed down the sudden jolt of warmth that flooded her system, ignored how her mind instantly went to different reasons they would be in such a position.

 

Carmilla could feel her face heating up, blush creeping up her neck.

 

“I’m so, so sorry.” Laura suddenly whispered, her hand coming to rest on Carmilla’s knee.

 

It took everything in Carmilla not to jump at the touch.

 

“I am so terribly sorry about the bathroom and the nakedness and you falling and me touching you...” Startled by her own words, Laura’s hand jerked away from Carmilla’s knee as if it had burned her.

 

“And I’m sorry for coming in here now but I couldn’t just...I didn’t want you to think...I needed to...”

 

Carmilla could hear those alarms ringing in her head, begging her not to, but she ignored them in favor of reaching out and cupping Laura’s cheek.

 

“Hey.”

 

Laura stopped her rambling, mouth snapping shut at the contact.

 

Carmilla tried to give a reassuring smile, though her headache was making the action feel more like a grimace.

 

“It’s alright.”

 

Laura looked at her a moment, searching her face for something Carmilla hoped she would find. After a moment, she reached up to cover Carmilla’s hand with her own and sighed.

 

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

 

Carmilla slipped her hand away from Laura’s, uncomfortable with how it was tingling against the woman’s skin.

 

A warm silence settled around them, Laura taking a few slow breaths to calm herself. Carmilla nervously fiddled with the golden wings in her hand.

 

“Are you in trouble?” She found herself asking.

 

Laura shrugged, then nodded. She readjusted, sitting down on the floor and wrapping her arms around her knees.

 

“Grounded.”

 

Carmilla’s brow furrowed, sending another throb of pain through her head, but she ignored it.

 

“Grounded?”

 

Laura hummed, looking down.

 

“In Singapore. Until they figure out what to do with me. I was supposed to crew the return flight tomorrow but that’s not happening after today. And they could just ship me back but the flights are all booked and Corvae certainly isn’t booting off a paying customer to send me home. So until the can find an available flight, or decide to let me work a return, I’m grounded. Shouldn’t be more than a few days, really, but definitely enough time to wallow in self pity.”

 

Carmilla blew out a low whistle.

 

Corvae didn’t mess around.

 

“I could talk to someone, if you like.”

 

Carmilla didn’t remember thinking that, giving her mouth permission to offer such a thing, but out the words came anyway.

 

Laura’s head snapped up, head shaking furiously.

 

“No, no, I couldn't. Not after everything I’ve already put you through.”

 

Carmilla crossed her arms.

 

“Do you like your job?”

 

Laura seemed surprised by the question.

 

“I love my job.”

 

Carmilla nodded.

 

“And would you like to keep doing it at Corvae?”

 

Laura opened her mouth, her face looking like she was about to protest, then nodded.

 

“Yes.”

 

Carmilla leaned forward, holding up the golden wings in her hand. Laura’s gaze softened as she looked at them, her eyes finding Carmilla’s after a long moment.

 

Carmilla could feel that loose, warm thump in her chest; a dangerous feeling.

 

She pushed through it.

 

“You helped me. Let me help you.”

 

Laura’s eyes glistened, not quite with tears but with something close to gratitude. She reached up and wrapped her hand around Carmilla’s, her fingers brushing against the shining wings.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Carmilla wanted to tell her it was nothing, it was the least she could do, it wouldn’t be hard.

 

Laura loved her job.

 

She should get to keep it, to do what she enjoyed.

 

Carmilla couldn’t; she worked a job that was slowly eating her alive, sending her anxiety higher and higher every time she stepped on a plane.

 

The least she could do was help someone who had found what they loved.

 

Carmilla wanted to say all those things and more, pour it all over the first class seat and let it surround them, her and Laura.

 

Instead she just smiled, Laura giving her an answering grin in return.

 

 

–

 

 

When they landed, Carmilla saw Laura disembark the plane in regular clothes.

 

Her golden hair was down, wavy around her shoulders. She was in a pair of tight jeans and a loose white tank top. If she hadn’t known it for a fact, Carmilla wouldn’t have recognized her to be the well put together flight attendant from the trip.

 

She figured that was the point.

 

Carmilla lost sight of Laura as they filtered into the airport; Changi was the nicest in the world and Carmilla would be lying if she said she wasn’t distracted by the grandeur of it.

 

Still, she couldn’t help scanning the crowds at baggage claim, hoping to see a certain flight attendant in casual dress.

 

Carmilla was half scolding herself, half craning her neck when her phone buzzed with a message from Mattie.

 

_**J.P. is waiting outside. Hope you enjoyed the flight, now go lure some investors.** _

 

Carmilla sighed, pulling her bag from the carousel and heading to the exit.

 

Before she reached it, Carmilla shot a text back to her sister.

 

_**Get me a contact at Corvae. I need a favor.** _

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla fell face first onto the bed, her body aching.

 

After endless hours on a plane and even longer ones presenting to blank faced businessmen, Carmilla was dead on her feet.

 

Her hotel room was simple, lavish in detail but minimalist in design. She had a sweeping view of the city, which glittered in the last light of day, and she wished she was awake enough to enjoy it. Instead, she closed her eyes as she let her body sink further into the fluffy comforter.

 

She was halfway to sleep, her limbs finally releasing their tension, when a knock came at her door.

 

Carmilla groaned.

 

She forgot the do not disturb sign.

 

She really needed to pay more attention to doors.

 

Grumbling, Carmilla hoisted herself from the rumpled bed, intending to snarl at whoever had interrupted what was about to be a deep and satisfying sleep. When she wrenched the door open, vicious words poised on her tongue, Carmilla nearly choked.

 

Laura stood before her, eyes wide.

 

“Oh my god, Carmilla.” Her voice was shocked her, mouth hanging open.

 

Carmilla scanned the woman before her, unsure if she was dreaming. Laura was wearing a loose pair of flannel pants, her feet bare, and a nearly see through sleep shirt that was just a touch too small. Her hair was haphazardly thrown up into a pony tail, a few stray wisps free around her temples, and her face was clean from the polished make up she sported as a flight attendant.

 

She was so pretty.

 

Too pretty.

 

Tempting. 

 

Carmilla shook the hazy thought from her mind.

 

“I am so sorry, I keep bothering you. I swear I didn’t know this was your room or that you were even _here at this hotel_...”

 

Laura sputtered apologies as Carmilla tried to gain her sleepy bearings.

 

Her words were rushed and her ears were turning an adorable shade of pink. She was backing up, feet tripping on her overly long pants. Before Laura could retreat to wherever she had come from, Carmilla leaned forward and caught one of her flailing hands with her own.

 

“Laura.”

 

Laura froze, her chest heaving from ranting.

 

“Sorry.”

 

Carmilla huffed out a tired laugh.

 

“Stop apologizing.”

 

“Sorry.” Laura mumbled, before her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry for saying sorry. Ugh, great, I’m in a loop.”

 

Carmilla smiled as Laura’s head dropped forward, shaking it at herself.

 

“Did you need something?” Carmilla offered, hoping to save Laura from further discomfort. 

 

Laura’s head snapped up, her hand slipping from Carmilla’s as she wrung them together.

 

Carmilla hadn’t realized she’d still been holding it.

 

It made sweat break out across her skin, her neck flushing with blush.

 

“Actually, yes. I was gonna see if I could borrow your ice bucket? My room doesn’t seem to have one and after this day, I desperately need to drink all the airplane bottles I swiped.”

 

Carmilla tilted her head, eyebrows drawing together.

 

“And you didn’t think to call the front desk and ask for one?”

 

Laura huffed, her jaw setting.

 

“I _did_ call, thank you very much, but I don’t speak Mandarin and the person answering the phone clearly didn’t want to speak English to me, though I _know_ he knew what I was asking for and, honestly, I thought the staff here was bilingual and I know, I know, I should have some sort of language basics since I’m an international flight attendant and no one likes dumb English speakers thinking everyone should know our language but do you know how easy it is to confuse Chinese dialects if it isn’t your first language, because I’ve been trying to learn but it just gets muddled in my head and this _guy at the desk_ -”

 

Laura’s words were cut short as Carmilla reached for Laura’s hand again and tugged her into the room.

 

Laura stumbled in, a surprised yelp falling out of her as she was ushered into the simple suite.

 

Carmilla didn’t say anything, just shuffled to the bathroom and retrieved the ice bucket. When she emerged back into the bedroom area, Laura was nervously pacing the carpet, shaking her head again.

 

She seemed so different from the put together flight attendant she had met all those months ago.

 

Carmilla liked it.

 

She liked seeing Laura all undone and flustered and not so poised.

 

It was endearing.

 

Intriguing.

 

Sexy.

 

Carmilla startled at the thought. She realized she was staring, eyes lingering a little to long on Laura’s too tight shirt, and shook herself out of the daze. She held up the ice bucket.

 

“You can borrow this,” She said, as Laura looked up at her. “On one condition.”

 

Laura sucked in a breath, confusion on her face.

 

Carmilla gave her a small, reassuring smile.

 

“You have to share your airplane bottles with me.”

 

Laura let out a shaky laugh, nodding, and followed Carmilla out of the room.

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla was laughing.

 

Full, loud, filling her chest.

 

She was two whiskeys deep, body thrown back on the bed in Laura’s room, her whole frame shaking with the force of her laughter.

 

“You mean that your pants came clean off? In front of your entire class?” Carmilla managed to ask between gasping breaths.

 

Laura was giggling on the foot of the bed, nodding, her own drink sloshing with the motion.

 

“Pants, underwear. The whole shebang. And, _and_ , to make matters worse, the TA I had a crush on at the time had a front row seat to the whole embarrassing ordeal.”

 

Carmilla threw a hand over her mouth, stifling another loud laugh.

 

“No.”

 

Laura nodded, grin firmly in place. “Yes. Needless to say, she did not ever ask me out.”

 

Carmilla felt her laughter subsiding, her alcohol hazy mind lingering around the word “she”.

 

Laura liked women.

 

Or at least had liked one.

 

Carmilla sat up, taking another sip of her cocktail.

 

She didn’t know why that fact flooded her chest with a light, buzzing feeling.

 

Or maybe she did know why.

 

Either way, she didn’t want to think about it.

 

But Carmilla was a few drinks deep, and getting deeper, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore just how pretty and lovely and warm Laura was.

 

She was kind and open and addicting in a way Carmilla had never experienced. 

 

It was unsettling. 

 

Overwhelming. 

 

Delightful.

 

Carmilla shook her head, moving past the dangerous thoughts.

 

“Well, her loss then.” She finally offered, wishing instantly she could suck the words back into her mouth.

 

That was so very much _not_ moving past the dangerous thoughts.

 

That felt much more like running straight at them.

 

Laura bit her lip, ducking her head down. Carmilla could see her pink ears and suddenly had the urge to reach out and brush her finger against them to see if they were warm.

 

Carmilla could feel her body leaning forward, tipping toward Laura, drawn in like a moth to a burning, wonderful death. 

 

Laura just shook her head, gaze still cast downward. 

 

Carmilla had half a mind to pull her into a kiss.

 

Thankfully, Laura broke the thickening silence and stopped her impulsive ideas in their tracks.

 

“Thanks. S’okay, really. I don’t think it would have worked anyway – she was too tall.”

 

Carmilla hummed, eyes caught on the hook of Laura's jaw. “Oh?”

 

Laura looked up, grin on her face. “She was 6’1”.”

 

Carmilla barked out a laugh again, her abs nearly hurting at the startling fact, and she wondered what it was about Laura that seemed to so easily relax her, that was so easy to be around.

 

Instead of dwelling on it, Carmilla got up and refilled her glass, offering the same for Laura. With fresh drinks, Laura launched into another embarrassing story, this time involving an explosion and a lot of paint and three very angry French professors, and Carmilla let Laura’s words wash over her, silencing the questions and desires that seemed to simmer just beneath her skin.

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla woke with a hangover.

 

Luckily, it wasn’t the worst she had ever had, and it paled in comparison to the headache she’d dealt with after her fall on the plane, but it still put her in a foul mood when she woke.

 

The other factor was that she was alone in a hotel room that wasn’t her own.

 

Laura was nowhere to be seen.

 

Carmilla sat up, the sun still rising. She trudged into the bathroom, debating whether or not she was going to need to puke, and saw a note taped to the mirror. In loose scrawl, Laura had left her a message.

 

_Sorry to vanish on you, my coworker Perry wanted to prep me for my Corvae hearing this afternoon. I figured I’d let you sleep – you can really drink a lot! Hope you’re not hungover but if you are there is Advil in my suitcase. I won’t be back until tonight but maybe we could hang out again? Let me know._

 

Her number was hastily written at the bottom, almost as an afterthought, almost as if she had debated not leaving it.

 

Carmilla peeled the note from the mirror and ran her fingers over the number.

 

She checked her pants for her room key, left Laura’s hotel room, and slipped into her own suite. Her phone was charging on the bedside table, the alarm mere minutes from going off.

 

Carmilla quickly added Laura’s contact information and sent off a text.

 

_**We should do dinner. Call me when you’re ready to eat. -Carmilla** _

 

As the message was sending, Carmilla flicked through her notifications, finding what she was looking for.

 

A message from Mattie.

 

_**Here Kitty, a higher up at Corvae personnel. You’ll have to explain the need for this little favor to me one day.** _

 

Carmilla clicked the number Mattie had sent, scanning the name a few times before it started ringing.

 

Someone answered on the third ring.

 

“ _Corvae Personnel Management, how may I help you?”_

 

Carmilla took a breath, turning on her business self.

 

“My name is Carmilla Karnstein and I’m calling for Mr. Vordenburg. He should be expecting my call, I need to discuss with him one of the flight attendants in his employment – Laura Hollis.”

 

 

–

 

 

_**I just got back to the hotel, my meeting was wild!!! Wanna meet at 7:00 for dinner?** _

 

Carmilla glanced down at her phone, forcing down the smile that wanted to break across her face.

 

_Laura._

 

_Laura._

 

_Laura._

 

Her brain couldn't get much more than that thought out all day, let alone after having contact from her.

 

She chose to ignore the presentation on marketing advantages to reply to Laura.

 

_**7 is perfect.** _

 

Carmilla ignored how her heart kicked up in her chest, how her lungs feel too tight, and tucked her phone in her pocket as she tried to focus back on the speaker.

 

 

–

 

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

Carmilla repeated the mantra to herself as she applied her make up. She had redone her eyeliner three times, all of them too sloppy or too dark or too simple.

 

She wanted to look nice.

 

But it was not a date.

 

Laura was barely an acquaintance; she was just going to dinner to hear about how the Corvae meeting went and to see if she needed to call anyone further about Laura’s grounding. She wanted to help her continue her career, after all. 

 

It _was not_ a date.

 

It almost could be a business meeting. 

 

But then, why did it _feel_ like a date?

 

Why was Carmilla so nervous?

 

And why did last night feel like the match strike, a spark taking flame?

 

Nothing had happened; they had drunk and laughed and fallen asleep on top of the sheets without touching the night before.

 

But Carmilla’s whole body felt lighter than it had...well, ever.

 

One night talking to Laura had felt more significant than a lifetime of one nightstands. 

 

She let out a shuddering breath, her hands shaking.

 

She scolded herself, feeling foolish.

 

Carmilla Karnstein was a powerhouse in the business world, seducing investors out of their millions with a well timed smirk and the perfect shade of lipstick.

 

Was she about to be reduced to a shaking teenager over a girl?

 

A girl she had just met, who by all accounts was just a business colleague? 

 

There was a knock on her door and Carmilla nearly jumped out of her skin.

 

Apparently she was.

 

“Coming!” Carmilla called, hastily checking her make up one last time and adjusting her shirt. With one last glance in the mirror and a steadying breath, Carmilla jogged to grab her money and room key from the bedside table. She slid her items into the pocket of her leather pants, glancing down at the golden wings perched near her phone.

 

Carmilla tucked her phone in another pocket, eyes still on the wing pin.

 

Another knock came from the door and Carmilla’s heart rate kicked up.

 

_It wasn't a date._

 

She brought her thumb to swipe along the ridged wings, feeling calmer just from the touch, and steeled herself for dinner with Laura.

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla was struggling, which was not something she was used to.

 

Not in this capacity, at least.

 

Women were usually beside themselves to try and get with Carmilla; at least, that was the type Carmilla usually went for. 

 

But Laura. 

 

Laura was charming and effervescent and so at ease that Carmilla was thrown, startled, ruined.

 

She spoke to Carmilla like they were the oldest of friends, touched her casually as if they had done it for years, blushed readily and let Carmilla see as if...as if…

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

The words were there in Carmilla’s mind, ringing over and over, but their strength was weakening.

 

Weakened when Laura showed up at her door in an off the shoulder dress, the dark color clinging to her skin like it was meant to contrast it.

 

Weakened when Laura pressed her hand against Carmilla’s lower back to usher her through the quiet restaurant.

 

Weakened when Laura leaned over to wipe a smudge from Carmilla’s mouth, her thumb warm and slow against her lower lip.

 

Carmilla was weak all over.

 

Laura made it hard not to be.

 

“I don’t know who you called, what you said, but I can’t thank you enough, Carmilla. They basically said you saved my career.”

 

Laura’s hand reached out to cover Carmilla’s and Carmilla could feel her heartbeat in her throat. She took a generous sip of wine before smiling over at Laura, pointedly ignoring how good her hand felt, how pretty she looked in the candle light.

 

“It was nothing. I rarely get to flex my powers for good so it was a nice change.”

 

Laura’s hand slid away from her own, going back to her meal. She popped a small bite into her mouth and Carmilla had never been so jealous of food before.

 

“You usually use your powers for evil?” Laura teased, eyes glinting with something that made Carmilla's stomach lurch. 

 

She shrugged, drinking from her wine again.

 

“More or less.”

 

Laura tiled her head, her hair falling gracefully over her shoulder, her neck looking achingly in need of touching. 

 

“You don’t seem the evil type.”

 

Carmilla huffed a humorless laugh, her throat dry and tight.

 

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving.”

 

Laura paused her eating at that, making Carmilla regret saying it.

 

She should have just kept her mouth shut.

 

Be grateful for her job, despite how much she hated it.

 

For her inheritance and her family name and the legacy her mother so wanted to leave.

 

The guilt gnawed its way into Carmilla’s chest and she found her hands itching to hold the golden wings that were resting on her hotel bedside.

 

Laura’s hand was suddenly there again, covering Carmilla’s tense fingers with her own.

 

Carmilla met her gaze and felt the tightness in her jaw loosen.

 

Laura wasn’t going to press further, ask for an explanation.

 

She gave Carmilla a small smile, her fingers threading through Carmilla’s.

 

“Well then, thanks for going a different route to help me.”

 

Carmilla sighed, her body relaxing, and gave Laura’s hand a thankful squeeze.

 

 

–

 

 

“So...” Laura teetered on her heels, hands wringing in front of her stomach.

 

“So.” Carmilla offered lamely, wishing her head didn’t feel so light and that her hands weren’t itching to run along Laura’s shoulders and that she felt more control over her emotions than she currently did.

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

_It wasn’t a…_

 

Laura was right there; dark eyes and hopeful smile and a lingering hand on the slope of her waist; standing too close and smelling like rose water and breathing along Carmilla's collarbones, pressing in and one eyebrow raised and question upon question building between them in the silence; heavy and easy and how did this happen from those few hours from the plane to now, from the bathroom and the damp skin and now the curve of Laura's shoulder.

 

_Oh, screw it._

 

Carmilla leaned forward, her hand coming up to cup the back of Laura’s neck, and pulled her in to a fervent kiss.

 

Laura was halfway to meeting her as she tugged her in, their teeth nearly knocking together but somehow managing not to, and then Laura’s hands were fisted in the back of Carmilla’s slinky black shirt, tugging her closer.

 

Carmilla stepped forward, pressing their bodies together, and the pair stumbled back against Laura’s hotel room door.

 

Laura laughed into her mouth, her breath hot and damp against her face.

 

Carmilla kissed away her laughter, fingers inching up to tangle in her golden hair. Laura’s hands slid down her back, pulling her in by the hips, and Carmilla could feel Laura arching up against her; slowly, gently, testing.

 

It was overwhelming, Laura’s mouth against her own, her body rubbing against hers so methodically. Carmilla couldn’t handle it. She pulled back, her hands moving to press against Laura’s door, trapping her between her arms.

 

They were both breathing ragged, shaking breaths; Laura’s lips were red and swollen, her heavy lidded eyes still staring at Carmilla’s mouth. Carmilla licked her lips instinctively and Laura leaned up to try and catch her in another kiss. Carmilla laughed, ducking her head so Laura kissed her cheekbone.

 

“Sorry, I-”

 

Carmilla surged forward and pressed a hot, fast kiss to Laura’s mouth.

 

“Stop apologizing.” She breathed against Laura’s lips.

 

Laura laughed against her, her hands squeezing at her hips.

 

“So...” Laura tried again, eyes finding Carmilla’s.

 

“So...” Carmilla answered, voice low, trying to keep from crashing their mouths together again.

 

Laura was like a magnet.

 

She pulled Carmilla in, knew how to make her react, to charge her.

 

How could she do that in such a short amount of time?

 

After all the months since they’d met?

 

In the few scant hours since their re-meeting on the airplane from New York to Singapore?

 

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Laura asked.

 

Carmilla grumbled under her breath, irritated by the reminder.

 

“Yes.”

 

Laura nodded, her fingers drifting under the hem of Carmilla’s shirt, brushing against her skin and sending goosebumps skittering across her skin.

 

“So asking you to come inside so I can keep you awake all night would probably not be a good idea.”

 

Carmilla nearly swallowed her own tongue.

 

She cleared her throat and shook her head.

 

“Probably not.”

 

Laura hummed, her head dropping back to lean against the door. She looked up at Carmilla through her lashes, eyes dark and purposeful.

 

“Well, you did say you’re a little evil, right?”

 

Carmilla could feel her resolve wavering, her head clouding with the beautiful girl in front of her and the many, many things she wanted to do to her.

 

_Don’t do it._

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

_It wasn’t a date._

 

Laura's hands flicked open the button of Carmilla's pants. 

 

_It was._

 

“You’re going to be a lot of evil, aren’t you?” Carmilla breathed.

 

Laura smirked, pulling her room key out of her purse.

 

“Oh, you have no idea.”

 

 

–

 

 

For the second time, Carmilla woke alone.

 

Laura was nowhere to be seen.

 

Carmilla ran a hand over her face, her limbs tired and sore.

 

Sore in the best possible way.

 

She tried to keep the filthy smirk from slipping across her lips but it was futile.

 

She could only think if why she was aching, where Laura's hands had touched her, how thorough she had been. 

 

It made her want Laura again immediately. 

 

Laura.

 

_Laura._

 

Carmilla sat up in bed, looking to see if Laura’s stuff was still around the room.

 

Her suitcase was gone.

 

The grin fell from her face.

 

Carmilla scrambled out of bed, searching around the room.

 

No note.

 

Nothing.

 

Carmilla felt like her heart was hammering through her chest.

 

That couldn’t be.

 

Last night had been...it was...they had…

 

_The bathroom._

 

The first note had been on the mirror.

 

Carmilla darted toward the bathroom, nearly slamming into the doorway as she launched herself inside.

 

There, delicately taped to the mirror, was a note.

 

_Kind of making it a habit to leave you, aren’t I? I don’t mean to. Got a call around 5:00 about my flight home – I’ll be in the air before you get up. I was going to wake you but...you’re really pretty when you sleep. Guess we will just have to meet again so I can give you a goodbye kiss. Or maybe a good morning one? Don’t forget my number. -Laura_

 

Carmilla pulled the note off the mirror, her smile unstoppable at Laura’s loopy handwriting.

 

A goodbye kiss.

 

A good morning one.

 

Carmilla’s swollen lips tingled at the thought.

 

She shuffled out of the bathroom, still staring down at the note. She stumbled over her pants, which were left in a pile by the door. She reached down and dug through her pockets for her phone. There were a number of notifications, from Mattie and emails from the board and one scathing email from her mother.

 

But there, among the chaos, was a text from Laura.

 

_**I left a note in the bathroom! But in case you didn’t get it, I’d like to see you again. I don’t know how exactly but last night was incredible and I’d enjoy doing it again – the whole thing. The dinner and the talking and the...other stuff. Okay so...yeah. Please text me back! Even if you don't want to see me again. I'd just like to know, either way. So. Please? Okay. Bye!** _

 

Carmilla smirked down at the rambling, shaking her head.

 

She typed out a quick response.

 

_**Wish you’d woken me up for that good morning kiss.** _

 

Sighing as the message sent, Carmilla looked around the room at her scattered clothes and rumpled bed sheets.

 

Maybe international travel wasn’t so bad after all.

 

 

–

 

 

“ _Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier. Crazy schedule shift change over here, I can’t even remember where I’m going next. I think Prague? God, I’m – yes, Mel, I hear you, I’m coming just...shut up, I just miss her, I’m allowed to...fine, fine! Sorry, sorry. Maybe we can skype when I land, wherever I’m going? Call me back. I, um, well I just...Mel, I hear you! I get it! I know! I wanna just say...Carmilla, I like you a lot, don't, um, don't forget that I guess._

 

“Damn it.” Carmilla shoved her phone into her pocket, annoyed at her terrible luck.

 

Yet another frazzled voicemail from Laura, wishing they could stop missing each other, hoping to find time together soon.

 

Reiterating that Singapore wasn't just a one time thing. 

 

The third one in two days.

 

It was setting Carmilla on edge.

 

It had been over three weeks since their stay in Singapore; since the dinner and the date and the wonderful, addicting after.

 

Since then, they couldn’t catch a break.

 

Wrong time zones, missed calls, texts trying to connect.

 

Carmilla had only spent a spare few days with Laura and still it was enough to drive her to anger when she had to go without.

 

She gone and gotten herself an addiction to a girl she barely knew. 

 

Figures. 

 

“Now boarding first class and priority.”

 

Carmilla swallowed the anger that simmered in her throat, ignored the ache in her teeth at wanting to call Laura back immediately, and instead filed onto her flight to London, the golden wings clutched tightly in her hand.

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla pressed her forehead to the window, focusing on the moving technicians outside. She could feel the anxiety inching up her neck, creeping along her skin, and even the constant comfort of the wings felt hollow.

 

_You want Laura._

 

_You miss Laura._

 

The thoughts were loud, unwanted things in her head.

 

It was one night.

 

One almost date.

 

_It was a date._

 

_You like her._

 

_You like her more than anyone before._

 

Carmilla closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

 

She needed to shove that thought aside, focus on not panicking, focus on the cool metal wings in her fist.

 

Then, a hand was on her shoulder.

 

“Bring your anchor with you?”

 

Carmilla nearly sprung out of her seat at the voice, her head turning so quickly it almost hurt.

 

Laura.

 

_Laura._

 

Achingly beautiful and beaming and calm as the day they met.

 

Carmilla felt her stomach lurch, the desire to stand up and kiss her so white hot and sudden that it made her dizzy. Her fist closed around the golden wing pin, feeling it press into her palm.

 

“Laura.” She finally managed, her name low and breathy and nearly embarrassing.

 

Laura smiled down at her, blinding and easy, as if they hadn’t spent a night touching each other as intimately as possible. Carmilla felt her body warm from her ears to her toes.

 

“Do you need anything before takeoff, Ms. Karnstein?”

 

The authoritative voice made Carmilla shiver.

 

Her fingers itched to curl under the hem of Laura’s skirt, to pull Laura into her lap and kiss away her mocking smile; to remind her of that night three weeks ago, to make everyone on the plane know what they had done.

 

Instead, she swallowed her desire and shook her head.

 

“I’m good, thank you.”

 

Laura’s warm hand gave her shoulder a squeeze, her head a small nod, and then she was off to see to the other first class passengers.

 

Carmilla let out a shuddering breath as she left, her entire body thrumming.

 

Just a flight to London with the women she’d been longing for as her flight attendant.

 

Unexpected but not unwanted.

 

Surely, Carmilla could handle that.

 

She looked down at the golden pin in her hand, thumb rubbing along the wings.

 

 

–

 

 

Laura’s mouth was hot and pliable beneath her own, Carmilla’s hands rucking up her skirt.

 

“This is so unprofessional.” Laura panted, grabbing Carmilla’s wrist and moving her hand between her thighs.

 

Carmilla whined at the feel of her, her lips moving to suck against Laura’s neck, just beneath her ear.

 

“At least I remembered to lock the door this time.” Carmilla whispered, fingers searching upward, finding home.

 

Laura keened, her tiny blue uniform hat falling to the bathroom floor.

 

“God, you’re gonna get me fired.”

 

Carmilla smirked, biting at Laura’s neck just as she slid her fingers in the way she knew would leave Laura gasping.

 

“I saved your job before, I’ve no intention of making you lose it now.”

 

Carmilla could feel Laura wanting to retort, but the words died in her throat, the turbulence of the plane hitting at just the right time to made Laura shudder against her.

 

 

–

 

 

Carmilla spun the golden wings between her fingers, staring down at her drink. 

 

Her hotel was extravagant, almost too much so; marble statues and water features and a orchestral band playing in the entry way. However, it only had one small bar area, tucked in the back, and since she hadn't figured out where Laura was staying yet, Carmilla found it to be the perfect place to perch. 

 

She sighed, checking her phone.

 

Still nothing. 

 

Laura was somewhere in the city; she knew the plane had arrived too late for Laura to make a return trip in the same day, yet she had heard nothing.

 

Maybe she had misread the situation.

 

Maybe those nights in Singapore were nothing more than companionship in a foreign city.

 

The tryst on the plane nothing more than a bucket list item, a chance to mark off a voyeuristic fantasy.

 

Carmilla rang through every panicked thought, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. 

 

Had she really been that wrong?

 

Was she truly so naive? 

 

"Anyone sitting here?" 

 

Carmilla's heart nearly stopped.

 

Then, she couldn't fight her grin. 

 

"They put up the Corvae team here?" Carmilla asked before turning around. 

 

Laura was behind her, all loose hair and casual dress; looking lovely and calm and so comfortable in her skin. It was something Carmilla admired about her, the ease at which Laura was herself. 

 

Laura slid onto the stool next to Carmilla, like she'd been planning to do it all night. 

 

"No, they didn't." Laura said casually, flagging down the bartender. 

 

Carmilla's heart was in her throat, the wings in her hand cool and steady. 

 

Laura looked over at her, eyes wide and open and a little fearful. 

 

"I was hoping I could stay with you tonight, if you...I mean, I was thinking that if you still..." 

 

Carmilla watched Laura take a shuddering breath and square her shoulders. She met Carmilla's gaze again, this time determined and certain. 

 

"I like you. A lot. And I want to sleep with you. Tonight. And for a lot of other nights, no matter how stupid our schedules are. Are you...um...would you...is that cool?"

 

Carmilla waited for it; the fear, the anxiety, some form of stress. 

 

She was a long flight from a home, working a job she hated, and had an equally long flight in order to get back to the comfort of what she knew.

 

Carmilla spun the golden wings between her finger and thumb.

 

However, looking at Laura in a back hotel bar in London, Carmilla tried to think of reasons to be afraid, to be scared. 

 

There was the unknown, the speed of which everything was happening, the horrible, devastating chance of falling; all of which swirled around them like a cocktail in a glass.

 

It was just like flying.

 

Carmilla spun the golden wings once more.

 

Laura's hand came down over top of her own, fingers catching and stopping the spinning wings. 

 

"Carmilla? Did...did you hear me? I'm sorry if I-"

 

Carmilla used her free hand to grab Laura's collar and tug her in for a kiss, ardent and warm and almost disbelieving. 

 

"Stop apologizing." She breathed against Laura's mouth. 

 

Laura sighed against her, into her, and then grinned, full and loose and easy. 

 

And when they kissed again, Carmilla would remember the way Laura's laugh tasted, and how both their hands felt pressed together around the golden wings. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno, this feels all over the place, BUT HOPE YOU ENJOYED. 
> 
> had a hell of a fun/crazy/wonderful/wild/nightmare time writing it. 
> 
> as always, thanks for reading. 
> 
> may you eat many tacos. 
> 
> and thank you to ana-lba, inspiration giver.


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